<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Halo Eyes by GuyOfShy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320774">Halo Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuyOfShy/pseuds/GuyOfShy'>GuyOfShy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Locked Tomb fics [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Comfort, Content Warning: Ianthe Tridentarius, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Obligatory open-shirt Ianthe, Power Imbalance, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sister/Sister Incest, Slice of Life, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:54:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28320774</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuyOfShy/pseuds/GuyOfShy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, the annual Christmas party that Harrow hated everything about - other than the girl she went with. Meanwhile, Corona is cursed to seek the blessing of her sister's company.</p><p>Chapter One is all Griddlehark, and Chapter Two is all Tridentarincest. They are entirely standalone: simply do not read the second chapter if you are not interested.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Coronabeth Tridentarius/Ianthe Tridentarius, Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Locked Tomb fics [21]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937449</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>What an absolute schmuck, Harrow.</p><p>Before coming outside on the porch to hide from all of the carousal, she saw everyone else inside drinking from their mugs of eggnog, or hot chocolate, or warm tea, or alcohol (she watched with some brand of esteem the Lady Pent sip her third glass of wine of the night), and here she sat, waiting for the ice in her water to melt and cursing Sextus - host of this year’s party at his own home - for adding it without asking. She considered requesting a new cup, sans ice, from her girlfriend, but…</p><p>But then, she couldn't bring herself to look at Gideon. Gideon, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater (partner to Harrow’s own) and her red-painted nose and the antler headband with bells that rattled every time she moved. Before they had left their house, Harrow had taken a sobering minute to stare into the mirror and consider what the fuck she was wearing. Then Gideon walked in with her own matching sweater and all her accessories.</p><p>
  <i>"What is this horrid concoction of a costume I find before me?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I'm Gideon, the red-nosed reindeer!"</i>
</p><p>The glacier water and her dumb, adorable girlfriend’s dumb, adorable outfit were but two of three things irking Harrow right now.</p><p>The third was the fact that the Tridentarii were present at this year's party - Corona of course was attending, which meant the other, even more dreadful sister followed in ghastly tandem - and the mere knowledge of Ianthe’s presence left Harrow bereft with faint but focused phobia.</p><p>It was her eighth time ranting to Gideon about her disdain for the woman that she arrived to her grand thesis: Ianthe Tridentarius is when you bite into a fruit expecting sweetness and it is entirely sour, but it’s weirdly tolerable, but still not what you wanted in the first place. She is an acquired taste that over a myriad you still would not acquire. And Gideon was impressed by that summation.</p><p>Also impressing Gideon at the moment was Harrow’s staunch refusal to drink her water.</p><p>“Just let me go get something you can actually drink,” insisted Gideon, already standing. “Here, keep these warm for me,” she said while lifting off her antler headband and trying to place it upon Harrow like a crown. Except that it wasn’t a crown; it was a fucking antler headband with jingle bells.</p><p>“What- No, Griddle!” Harrow pushed it away but Gideon swung it back with a big grin, batting away Harrow’s blocks. “I <i>am not</i> wearing that!” Harrow guarded her head with her hands, but somehow Gideon wrestled an opening into existence and slipped it on and hauled ass inside, giggling all the way. Harrow started to take off after her, but running into the house with this ridiculous thing on was the last thing she was about to do.</p><p>Harrow folded her arms in a fit of frustration and plopped back down onto the bench, but begrudgingly left the headband on, only because it would light Gideon’s world when she came back. Harrow had dreams of that handsome smirk of hers.</p><p>She missed her already. Harrow took this moment of isolation to enjoy the cozy front porch of Palamedes’ house. The lamp captured a humble sunset in its square glass, waning away the cold snow of the night. Her breath crystallized in its light. Perhaps with some viny flora sprawling over the railing and a darker, less tacky color for the wooding of the bench, Harrow might deem this a very lovely space.</p><p>Harrow then caught a terrible sight of the third thing that irked her in the window, nullifying her desire to exist. A phone lens pointed straight at her. Caught in her accursed moment of vulnerability, now immortalized on Ianthe’s camera roll, Harrow floundered for a second before doing the only thing she deemed fit and raised a furious, thrusting middle finger with a ring of her bells atop her head. Ianthe did not blanch from being flipped off and took another picture and lowered the phone with a complacent grin, her lips hiking up her cheeks in such a sickening way. She turned and showed her sister the pictures she’d successfully taken, who waved at Harrow out the window.</p><p>Why. Why, every damn year, did Ianthe have to ruffle her feathers? Wrest away what little peace of mind she had achieved? At least there was an entire wall separating them this time, so Harrow couldn’t commit last year’s fatally embarrassing mistake again… then she panicked, for there was nothing stopping Ianthe from walking out here to antagonize her.</p><p>Harrow’s chest throbbed in a nervous fit, suddenly short of breath. Her head swam in shallow water, rapid-fire strings of thoughts disappearing down the drain; she was spiralling. She leapt to her feet to go find Gideon.</p><p>And thank God - bless the fucking stars - for Gideon walking back out at that moment with a cup of water in hand, along with Palamedes following her for some reason, though he continued off the porch and into the yard. Harrow took her beverage before it was even offered to her and drank several tepid sips, dragging Gideon back down by her hand.</p><p>Gideon saw her eyes so wide and rounded with fear and leaned in close. “Hey, what’s wrong? You alright?”</p><p>“No,” Harrow whined, hands trembling so much that her drink sloshed in the glass. “That- That <i>slag</i> Ianthe now has in her possession an embarrassing snapshot of me at the Christmas party! Wearing this stupid thing, which you are more than welcome to take back now.” Gideon’s sigh arrested Harrow’s hands as she began to lift the headband off. “What?”</p><p>“Oh, nothing,” Gideon shrugged, before relieving Harrow of the headband and putting it back on with a jingle. “Just thinking about how cute it looked on you.”</p><p>Having having caught herself in a crisis only moments ago, Harrow was not prepared for this compliment. Her brain switched from panicked to sluggish in a moment, processing slowly a feeble feeling of regret for taking off the antlers and disappointing Gideon; all as a new voice rang out.</p><p>“And my, does it ever look cute!”</p><p>Dulcinea Septimus was brought by Palamedes onto the porch in her wheelchair with the stone-faced Pro following close behind, and she looked so slightly sicker than last year. Harrow presently felt some other kind of irk in her, mostly out of a concerned sense of pity for the poor thing, but Dulcinea was wearing a cloth mask which helped ease Harrow's fear of contracting whatever nightmare had taken residence in her body.</p><p>"Don't worry, I’m not any more contagious than the bundle of joy sat beside you Gideon," she smiled, her voice dragging feebly, and Harrow believed that statement to be impossible. Dulcinia waved with a wiggle of her fingers when they locked eyes. “‘Twas but a jest, Harrowhark, I hope you know.” Harrow raised a hand, though her tiny greeting was immediately overshadowed by Gideon sitting up straight and beaming, “Dulcie! Glad you could make it!”</p><p>“Oh, but of course. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Equally good to see your dear Harrowhark in attendance, as well,” Dulcinea said, aiming her smile at the young woman hiding behind Gideon.</p><p>Gideon said, “You think I would let her stay home and miss out on this?” ‘This’ referred to Gideon’s absurd getup as she slid her hands suggestively down her body. Dulcinea’s cheeks lifted in a presumed smile before Palamedes spoke up: “Feel free to show Harrow all of ‘that’ when you go home together. I, for one, do believe that I’ve seen enough.”</p><p>“Make that two,” said Dulcinea.</p><p>Harrow leaned past Gideon. “Make that three.”</p><p>Gideon clutched her heart, spinning her attention to Harrow with the fakest pout and a rattling jingle of her bells, which almost, <i>almost</i> drug a sputtering laugh out of her. Harrow swallowed it in her throat and pursed her lips. Gideon just sat and mad dogged her while Pal and Duclie watched the show.</p><p>“What?” Harrow spat, desperate to avoid humoring Gideon’s petty comedy.</p><p>Gideon tore her sunglasses off with a shake of her head and another noisy jangling of the bells. Harrow tightened her jaw and trapped her giggle. Gideon grinned, knowing she was close to breaking.</p><p>That damned red nose of hers did Harrow in. She blew air from her nose as her lips curled up high and happy for her goofy girlfriend. Gideon, grinning triumphantly, slid her sunglasses back on and turned back to Dulcinea, who was stifling her own giggles.</p><p>“Good luck, Harrow,” she said while being wheeled away and into the living room with Pro close behind, from where they heard cheers upon their arrival.</p><p>Gideon reclined back into the bench and took Harrow’s gloved hand in her own, still beaming at her accomplishment.</p><p>“I love when you grin like that Harrow. Now that I’ve gotten one out of you, the rest will be easy. I’ve got you wrapped around my finger now, Nonagesimus,” she murmured suggestively.</p><p>“Precious,” said Nonagesimus. “You’re the one fetching drinks at my whim.”</p><p>“Damn, you got me there. I’m just your little bitch, aren’t I?” Harrow smirked a dry, wry smirk and scooted closer to Gideon. "You think he did it on purpose? The ice in your water," asked Gideon, downing a big gulp from her own glass of eggnog.</p><p>"No,” Harrow sighed, relaxing herself now that she was left in blissful, infrangible peace with Gideon. “He had the right idea, fathoming that I wanted water, but didn’t think it all the way through.” She set her head on Gideon’s shoulder. “Griddle?”</p><p>“‘Sup?”</p><p>“…Describe eggnog for me.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t like it. It’s overly sweet and rich. Tastes kinda like- I guess vanilla and cream? Sugary stuff, that eggnog.”</p><p>“It’s nothing to do with egg?” Harrow said quizzically.</p><p>“Want me to go get you a glass?”</p><p>"No, that is quite alright," said Harrow heavily, knowing that she would have to follow Gideon inside, lest she be left alone. To be alone was to be vulnerable. But Harrow did not want to appear as someone who needed someone at her side at all times - sorry, Septimus, and Corona while she was at it - for that would paint a perfect picture of how she so desperately coveted Gideon’s company.</p><p>But even Septimus, confined to her wheelchair and bereft with plague, was content with being left alone. That terrified Harrowhark. Without Gideon at her side she was vulnerable to conversation or to someone approaching her. Ianthe would jump at that chance if she saw one, and if she took it, Harrow would jump out of her skin to get away.</p><p>“Sorry,” said Harrow, hugging Gideon’s arm and squeezing her hand.</p><p>“What for? Calling my costume a horrid concoction earlier?”</p><p>“No. It is quite horrid, and my opinion is inflexible. I know you want to go inside and join the party, and catch up with Dulcinea, and I’m keeping you out here.”</p><p>“Oh, shut up. You know as well as I do that I’m happy to be with you. If I was that insistent on going inside I would drag you in there with me.”</p><p>“…Thank you for not doing that,” Harrow murmured contritely.</p><p>“Thank you for wearing that stupid sweater, by the way. And the antlers. That just made my night, and it does make me happy that you’re willing to do that much.”</p><p>“I’d hate to stick out like a sore thumb, so I thought it best to keep in theme,” Harrow said flatly, still not impressed by the Christmas spirit that filled Gideon so heartily. Celebrations for the sake of what seemed to her like celebration simply were not her speed. Neither were social gatherings. Neither was hanging out at other people’s houses. Neither was Ianthe Tridentarius. Neither was eggnog. So many discordant notes, striking her soul at once, made her cling to Gideon with a heavy breath.</p><p>“Hey,” said Gideon.</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>“Harrow.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I want to tell you something.”</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake, look up, will you?”</p><p>Harrow looked up, and with a rattle of her bells Gideon leaned her chilled lips into hers. Slow and soft; snow upon the earth. Harrow expected a playful peck, but the kiss melted slowly. She turned her head how Gideon taught her, listening to the smooch as they parted, listened to the way her skin bristled in the warming cold.</p><p>“What was that for?”</p><p>“For you.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Gideon laughed, then. “God, I love you Harrow.”</p><p>Harrow’s face was a star. Her clavicle burned and her ears steamed. She brought her legs up onto the bench, up to her chest, and leaned into Gideon, who put her arm around her.</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Harrow started quietly, “I didn’t kiss Ianthe again while you were gone.” Harrow did not know how to keep the bitterness from her voice. She felt sick even uttering the words, let alone recalling the stupid, stupid memory.</p><p>“Hey, I don’t blame you for doing it the first time,” Gideon said, striking her tone in such a way as to make it absolutely obvious that she was joking.</p><p>Harrow was not.</p><p>“It’s not like I wanted to! I had to, she was spouting off about us in front of everyone, all these indecent things, some of which were true and some weren’t, but that was the only way I could think to shut her up. I panicked. It was a reaction that I didn’t have the luxury of time to consider. She has the tongue of a snake and I was entirely opposed to letting her flaunt it like that.”</p><p>Harrow trembled in her chagrin as she confessed to her sin for the eighth time now, frustrated with herself more than Ianthe being a total bitch and more than Gideon not giving a flying fuck. She <i>wanted</i> Gideon to be mad about it. She craved the opportunity to redeem herself and make up for her miserable mistake.</p><p>“Damn, Harrow, are you still that upset about it?” Harrow shot up with a glare, lips pinched in this awkward expression that gave Gideon the impression of a bomb jamming right as it was about to pop.</p><p>“But of course! Indelibly! Are you not?”</p><p>“Not really, no.” Gideon shook her head and smiled, looking carefully at Harrow.</p><p>Harrow huffed and squeezed her hand, leaning back into her shoulder to avoid her halo eyes.</p><p>“I don’t understand, and doubt I ever will.”</p><p>“My logic is simple. You ready for this Harrow? The simple fact of the matter is that you and I are wearing matching sweaters, and she isn’t.”</p><p>Harrow waited for the punchline.</p><p>“Come again?”</p><p>“You heard me. If Ianthe Tridentarius walked up to you and asked you to put on a matching sweater or a goofy antler headband you would laugh in her face and walk away uttering some smartypants insult. You may even spit in her general direction. And you might throw up later.”</p><p>“Assuredly,” Harrow interjected, and Gideon pulled her in close, sitting her chin atop her head with another ring-a-ling.</p><p>“You haven’t spit at or thrown up on me yet.”</p><p>Gentle was Gideon’s voice as she uttered such a stupid line. And as stupid as it was, it was the one that Harrow repeated to herself for the rest of the night.</p><p>Gideon lifted her head off of Harrow’s and lifted her chin with her hand, fingers icy and smooth.</p><p>“Now, you do have me curious. If she’s got a silver tongue, what is mine like?”</p><p>Harrow rolled her eyes hard enough to turn the world over, and Gideon was happy, because Harrow was what kept her world turning.</p><p>“Come here and I’ll tell you,” she said in a quiet, warm tone that she was still learning to flourish, bridging the distance between them, pressing cold lips together and sending her tongue to meet Gideon’s, neverminding if someone saw through the window. In fact, she hoped Ianthe was taking a picture- no, a fucking video, and eating her heart out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Corona knew it wasn’t on purpose. She was a creature of passion: a blessed, radiant fire, condemned to be ever-thirsty for affection to swallow.</p><p>Ianthe was stingy with such affections. Even for Coronabeth, they were not free. But when she did deliver them, it was with certain intimacy: a perfect, precise gravity, levelled to the heart.</p><p>Corona waited all night for that gravity to steal her breath away. The touch to her cheek, the low glance from across the room, the misty laugh at any old joke. Ianthe promised not to stray too far from her side, yet presently Ianthe leaned to Abigail's ear to share secrets and petty gossip, and Coronabeth had to look away. The nonchalance and grace of her face condemned Corona to surfeits of yearning. She begged Ianthe's attention with surreptitious glances, trying to affect a force beyond her influence, as one could see the distant moon fit in their palm yet remain out of reach. Corona's patience slipped away and left her anticipating a fretful panic while watching Ianthe ignore her.</p><p>She folded her arms, tucking her fists tight into her elbows, shaking her head to toss her hair out of her face. Across the room, she caught sight of Gideon hurrying back outside with some beverage; likely to return to her girlfriend before Harrowhark spontaneously combusted without her.</p><p>"Excluded from the conversation too, I see," offered the gruff yet gentle voice of Abigail's husband, from her other side.</p><p>Corona did her best not to pout, and suspected she was not doing a good job.</p><p>"I do wonder what they could possibly be talking about that they wouldn't want their others to hear."</p><p>"It is an ever-changing puzzle, whose mysteries I gave up on long ago. Abigail normally is not one for the grapevine your sister enchants her with, but, she has been indulging in the wine a tad extra tonight."</p><p>His words stung. Corona wanted to be enchanted. "I may follow her lead out of sheer boredom," she grumbled, stealing a glance at Ianthe, who looked up at her while tipping her glass to her lips.</p><p>"Your sister seems to be ahead of you there," laughed Magnus. To that, Ianthe saluted him with hand-horns.</p><p>"Magnus, you may need to cut her off," warned Ianthe while gesturing to his wife. "’A tad’ is putting it nicely."</p><p>"Dear,” said Abigail with dangerous curiosity, “what exactly are you going on about over there?"</p><p>Corona's chest burned up with steam, wishing to be included in her sister's company. And for once, as if reading her mind - or more likely sensing her deepening desperation - Ianthe rose and encircled her to her side. She hovered close, pressing her body carefully to Corona’s back, laying her head over her shoulder, cheek to cheek, while drawing attention away from all the body contact to her phone held in front of them.</p><p>“Isn’t it perfect?” She asked, knowing her ever-impeccable choice of words tore through.</p><p>A picture of Harrow delivering a violent ‘fuck you’ in the form of a middle finger to the camera. Before anything else, Corona felt pity for her, and offered a meek wave through the window behind her, before everything stormed up to the surface.</p><p>Corona knew it wasn’t on purpose. But still it slid a layer of ice as thin as a knife under her skin, her eyes wide and wild with a storm of repressed emotion.</p><p>“Shh, dear,” said Ianthe, smiling with the low glance and the touch to her cheek, and the misty chuckle.</p><p>Corona swallowed with the weight of that gravity collapsing. She took Ianthe’s hand and led her away in a hurry, fingertips hooked under hers: a desperate and devoted touch.</p><p>She counted heads as she went; everyone was in the living room that they presently escaped from, except for Gideon and Harrow who were on the front porch. Corona stole her sister away through the kitchen and into the dark dining room, hugging the wall and turning on her heel to face her, pulling her hands into Ianthe’s and clasping them tight.</p><p>“Kiss me,” Corona whispered, as politely as such a desperate dare could be requested. Ianthe merely tilted her head, lips sliding into a small smile. “Please.”</p><p>“Corona,” Ianthe said softly. “Does it upset you so much that I took some pictures of some other girl? Spoke with an attractive, older woman?”</p><p>“I am your attractive, older woman.” Corona could not find any other words to respond, because she did not know how to tell Ianthe things that she already knew. Ianthe’s smile lingered while she lifted her hand to Corona’s cheek: a touch cultivated to calm her sister.</p><p>“You always get so antsy at these parties.” A lie. Corona’s nerves were not usually so taut, but she’d felt alienated by Harrow ever since that daring play of hers last year, even after all the misunderstandings were cleared up. Ianthe’s words carried the scent of wine.</p><p>Corona lifted her own hand to press against Ianthe’s, wrapping around her long and thin fingers, lifting them up and through her hair, behind her ear.</p><p>“Please tell me, at least.”</p><p>“But we haven’t even begun exchanging presents yet. Who knows what I could be planning to give you? For all you know it could be as honeyed a date as you could ever dream of. You know what happens to bad girls who open their presents early, don’t you?”</p><p>“Is it worth it?” Corona breathed, as helplessly as a branch in the whimsical winds of Ianthe’s words.</p><p>“You tell me,” murmured Ianthe into her ear, drawing her fingers up Corona’s neck, her jaw, adoring how she petrified. “Oh, what’s the need, sister? We overuse the words as is, don’t you think? I’d hate for them to lose their luster.”</p><p>“Nonsense.”</p><p>“Oh, boo,” pouted Ianthe. “I heartily disagree, but since I don’t think you’ll let me away until I do…” Ianthe narrowed her stare, sharpened it, flipped her pale, pearl-colored hair behind her shoulder, then pulled Corona a step toward her. Corona tumbled clumsily on her toes, nervous and unsteady in Ianthe’s hands, her heart a quivering mess of heat.</p><p>Ianthe looked at her with crystalline eyes of a pale purple tint: clouded halos, smoked glass, sunken gems, lilac pools, winding water, that Corona so easily lost herself in. They wandered closer as Ianthe leaned in, pressing her lips to Corona’s with the quietest of smooches, letting a soft breath fall, “I love you.”</p><p>Corona’s exhale was needier, and stilled by her sister’s hand touching her cheek again.</p><p>“Always have.” Another kiss. “I always will.” Stated slow and sweet. Taking teeth to her lower lip. A palm on her clavicle, the hem of her sweater, the border between their skin. Ianthe indulged her dear sister in a dusky tone that only she was privileged to know. “I want you just as you want me, babe.”</p><p>“Badly,” clarified Corona, her eyes drawn to the opened collar of Ianthe’s partially unbuttoned shirt - to her bleak, beautiful chest: a gaunt stretch of pallid, porcelain skin. </p><p>“Then come find me under the mistletoe,” offered Ianthe casually, barely above a whisper. “I don’t mean to nurture jealousy. Your doubt pains me, and I accept blame for it, though I do adore your passion.”</p><p>“I implore you to indulge me,” Corona whined. Her sister’s words ailed her heart, every unfulfilled throb a new pain. Tempering Ianthe’s mood was an undertaking that demanded Corona not succumb to her own cravings, and she failed miserably at almost every turn. Ianthe wielded her control over her like a weapon; with precision and purpose, with the act of simply aiming her love in Corona’s direction enough to make her wilt.</p><p>“I’ve already told you what you wanted to hear, and given you a big, wet smooch. Three, in fact. Shall I leave a hickey? Undress you now? Are you that impatient for my touch?” Ianthe snuck her hand under Corona’s top, across her finely-toned stomach as she asked. This combined with her tone which was all intricately tangled with gentle and stern knots, baffled Corona, so Ianthe reduced her question to a very basic one: “If we had the night all to ourselves, what would you have me do?”</p><p>There were only ever two answers: what Ianthe wanted to hear, and what Corona wanted Ianthe to hear. It took Corona too long into their tryst to realize that they were one and the same.</p><p>Halting both of them was the cheer of the crowd in the living room. Ianthe let that question fall unanswered to the floor between them, and left Corona unfulfilled. Ianthe took her hand and laced their fingers, squeezing their palms together.</p><p>“It sounds like Dulcinea has finally arrived in all her decrepitness. Now that everyone’s here, we shouldn’t be absent for too much longer. Enjoy the party. Before you know it, the night will be over and you will have me all to yourself. Capisce?”</p><p>Corona was so short of breath that she felt halfway to sobbing. She stuffed away everything she wanted to say to the harbor of her heart: a most secluded place, but one still weathered by Ianthe’s every mannerism. Still, Corona entrusted herself to her sister; best the lightning to strike her heart than for loneliness to erode it away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Holidays! Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>